


Acceptable Targets

by distantglory



Category: Ratchet & Clank
Genre: Clank is a Good Friend, Galactic Rangers cope with Feelings by shooting stuff, Gen, low-level swearing, reboot!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 05:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantglory/pseuds/distantglory
Summary: In the wake of Novalis's destruction, Cora Veralux struggles to cope. But her friends aren't going to let her suffer alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> We didn't really get to see Cora's reaction to the destruction of her home world (apart from that one shot) in either the movie or the game, so... I wanted to write something to fill in the gap.
> 
> I didn't expect the gap to take almost 7K words to fill, but hey, sometimes these things happen.
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for the 'physics' in Elaris's section, my knowledge of these things is sketchy at best.

To Clank, the Hall of Heroes seemed much bigger and somehow more hostile without Ratchet.

The Lombax had only returned to Kerwan long enough to get a working ship; as soon as he had, he had departed for Veldin. Even Clank, still inexperienced with the nuances of organic emotion, had been able to see that Ratchet was consumed by guilt—even though, as far as Clank could tell, Ratchet was not responsible for what happened. True, he had failed to stop the Deplanetizer before it destroyed Novalis, but he _had_ been the only one to breach the station’s defences and make the attempt. He had done his best. And if that hadn’t been enough, surely that should not reflect on him? The planet’s inhabitants had been evacuated, thanks to the Rangers’ warning. No one had been injured or killed.

These facts had not seemed to matter to Ratchet. And Clank had been unable to find the words that would persuade his friend to stay.

Watching Ratchet’s ship disappearing into the distance had been…unpleasant.

Clank tried to put the memory aside. It was not helpful at this moment. Ratchet was not the only one who had been deeply affected by the destruction of Novalis and Captain Qwark’s betrayal; his other teammates had all shown signs of distress. Clank hoped that they were not feeling as guilty or ineffectual as Ratchet had, but he suspected that they might be.

There had to be something that he could do to help.

Brax had been unusually quiet on the way back to Kerwan, and disappeared into the practice range almost immediately after their arrival. Elaris had not seemed surprised by this, which argued that this was a known coping mechanism.

Clank put Brax to one side. It seemed likely that Brax would bounce back after venting his initial emotional response. It was too soon to tell if it would be otherwise, and interference at this stage would likely produce a negative reaction.

Elaris had plunged herself into work as soon as Ratchet had departed, asking for Clank’s help in setting up the decryption programs and cleaning the sensor data from the Phoenix. After that, though, she had seemed to forget his existence, and Clank had left her alone to work. There wasn’t much that he could contribute at this time, beyond the slight modifications he had made to the decryption programs. He feared being a distraction, and Elaris had collected an ample supply of consumable liquids before beginning her work. This argued for another known response to distress. It would be beneficial to check on Elaris in a few hours to ensure that she ate, and to replenish her supply of drinks, but for the moment it seemed that the Rangers’ tactical officer had her emotions under control.

Cora, however, worried Clank. Understandably, she had been the worst affected by the events at Novalis, and she had not done as Clank expected and visited the practice range upon their return to Kerwan. This contradicted his impression of her as someone who, like Brax, managed negative emotion with controlled violence. Instead, Cora had found another chair in Elaris’s office, and watched the decryption programs with almost unsettling intensity. Some time after Clank had left Elaris to her work, he had seen Cora stalking through the Hall’s corridors. He had thought at the time that she needed the relief of movement, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Should he have stayed in Elaris’s office to keep an eye on her? But Cora hadn’t seemed like she had wanted or needed company. Indeed, her body language had suggested that any attempt to interrupt her vigil would be met with drawn blaster, even though the programs were not likely to produce results for another few hours at least.

Perhaps, upon realising this, she had gone to the practice range, or returned to her quarters to get some rest. But in view of her most recent behaviour, it seemed unlikely.

Surely it would do no harm to check on her? She was grieving for the loss of her home. Brax and Elaris were each dealing with their own reactions to what had happened. Someone should make sure that Cora needed no assistance, and it seemed like Clank was the only one available to do so.

He set off to find his teammate.

* * *

 

Clank found Cora Veralux staring at the golden statue of Captain Qwark outside the Hall of Heroes.

 “Miss Veralux?” he ventured.

She sighed. “What do you want, Clank?” Her tone suggested that she did not want him here; an understandable reaction. Grief could lead beings to seek isolation, either out of an instinctive desire to protect themselves when vulnerable, or because they did not feel capable of dealing with the reactions of others. Such isolation could be helpful for the afflicted, but sometimes it only worsened matters.

Clank wanted to make sure that Cora’s isolation was the former.

“I wanted to offer my condolences,” he said, coming a little closer. Surely if Cora truly wanted him to leave, she would say so, or at least strongly indicate this desire via her body language. When his words did not cause a reaction one way or another, he cautiously added, “I am…sorry, for what happened.”

Cora did not look at him, but asked sharply, “Could you have done anything to stop it?”

It might have been a rhetorical question. Clank was reasonably certain that Cora did not believe he held any responsibility for what had happened to her home world. But perhaps it was best to answer the question as though it had been serious—just in case.

 _Could_ he have stopped it?

“If I had been with Ratchet, I might have warned him before he was captured,” he said slowly. “But there is no guarantee that we would have succeeded in shutting down the Deplanetizer before it fired.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “You could have just said _no._ ”

Apparently, the question _had_ been rhetorical. Oh dear. But before Clank could apologise for misunderstanding her, Cora shook her head sharply and said, “Whatever. You shouldn’t say sorry for things you weren’t responsible for. It doesn’t help anything.”

She appeared to believe that he was seeking to clear his own conscience about what had happened. Would he only worsen things if he tried to assure her otherwise? Grieving beings could be unpredictable in their needs, and his failure to persuade Ratchet to stay was fresh in Clank’s processor. “Perhaps I did not express myself clearly,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I only wanted to offer you my sympathy. You have suffered a great loss.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” said Cora. Her tone was distinctly sarcastic, and Clank winced inwardly. He seemed to be making one mistake after another; it did not bode well for the remainder of the conversation. Perhaps he should just ‘quit while he was ahead’ and leave. He was weighing up the probability of this causing further offence, and balancing it against his objective of discovering how to help his teammate in her grief, when Cora heaved a deep sigh. “Look,” she said, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I don’t really want to talk to anyone right now, so can you just…” She trailed off.

That was certainly an indication that she wanted to be left alone. But it was also an opportunity to ask a direct question, and after a moment’s calculation, Clank took that opportunity. “If you don’t want to talk to anyone,” he asked, “what _do_ you want?”

“I want to shoot Drek somewhere painful,” replied Cora.

Well, that was a straightforward (though possibly unethical; Clank wasn’t entirely certain of the finer points of organic morality) desire. “I would think that, by definition, any injury inflicted by gunshot—” he began.

“ _Really_ painful,” interrupted Cora. “Like his knee. Both knees.” She looked back up at the golden statue that towered above her, as Clank considered this new information. He was just concluding that it seemed Cora wanted to inflict a lasting punishment as well as a painful one (even with modern healing technology, organic joints were difficult to reconstruct if damaged) when she continued, “And I want to shoot our lying, scum-sucking, pus-ridden _Captain_ somewhere even more painful.”

If the additional invective had not made it clear, the increased level of vitriol in her tone would have: Qwark would be Cora’s target of choice. That seemed somewhat illogical, since Drek was the one who was directly responsible for the destruction of her planet. However, Qwark’s betrayal had been a far more personal matter. Or perhaps she thought that, without Qwark’s betrayal, Drek would have been unable to carry out his plans? It was difficult to tell.

Clank put that question aside for another. For a suitably painful and long-lasting punishment, Clank could not think of a better target than an essential joint. So when Cora said that she wanted to shoot Qwark somewhere more painful… “Such as?” he asked, not entirely certain that he wanted an answer.

Cora must have given the matter some prior thought, because her reply was immediate. “If his ego was a physical thing, I’d shoot him there. Since it isn’t…” She looked over at Clank and gave him a vicious grin. “I was thinking his crotch.”

Ah. Clank had overlooked the genitalia. Possessing none himself, he found it difficult to relate to the organic fixation on their means of reproduction. Still, it would certainly fulfil Cora’s desire to inflict excruciating and long-lasting pain on her former leader. The problem was that such a target would be immediately obvious as personally motivated; while disabling the knee might be seen as necessary to prevent a criminal’s escape, an attack on their genitalia had no such justification.

Perhaps a substitute target might be found?

“I suppose that you could shoot the statue,” he said. “But I believe that would count as vandalism.”

“I’m pretty sure that right now, it’d be considered a public service,” she said. Clank couldn’t tell what she was basing this opinion on. “But there’s a better reason I’m not shooting the statue.”

“And that is?” Concern for the reputation of the Rangers, already called into question by Qwark’s actions, seemed likely.

Cora drew her Combustor. Clank reconsidered his conclusion. “Stay there,” she said. She circled the golden monument, her glare becoming more assessing than angry. After several moments she knelt, took careful aim, and fired a single shot. As soon as she squeezed the trigger, she threw herself into a sideways roll. The blast rebounded from the metal and scorched the ground where Cora had been just a second before.

The statue didn’t have so much as a mark.

Cora got up and holstered her Combustor again. “The Captain _insisted_ that his statue be protected. Something about being the most visible of us and raising morale among the general population.” She kicked the plinth—but without much force. In light of what she had just demonstrated, this seemed sensible. “This thing could survive anything short of an orbital missile strike. Not exactly a satisfying target.”

“Yes, that…might not be taken well by galactic officials,” said Clank, a little faintly. He would not put it past Cora to try to arrange an orbital missile strike in this mood.

“Public service,” insisted Cora. “The fitness course dummies are the same. Qwark is— _was_ —too vain to let anything in his image be destroyed.”

There was an organic saying for the beginnings of an idea: ‘the wheels began to turn’ in someone’s head. In Clank’s case, the wheels were literal, and they spun rapidly. If Captain Qwark was so concerned with his image being destroyed…and Cora had said that she would shoot Qwark’s ego, if it were a physical thing. Perhaps it wasn’t, but it _was_ something that could be attacked.

And perhaps it would even be possible to incorporate gunfire.

He was recalled to the situation at hand when Cora asked him, “Any luck with the files?”

It seemed that she did not want to pursue that topic of conversation any further. “The program appears to be making headway,” he replied. “But it is a slow process. Nefarious is very clever.”

“Right.” For a moment, she appeared to wrestle with something—perhaps a demand to know as soon as anything useful was discovered. Clank would not have blamed her for doing so. But instead, she asked, “You’ll let me know once you get something, right?”

“Of course, Miss Veralux.” In this moment, Cora was not the only one who wanted to take some sort of immediate action. Clank was eager to begin developing his idea, so he nodded to Cora and said, “I will leave you be.”

He had only moved several steps when she called, “Hey, Clank.” He looked back at her. “Thanks for checking on me.”

She seemed slightly uncomfortable with expressing gratitude. Was she unused to receiving the concern of others? No, that couldn’t be right. Clank was sure that Cora was friends with Brax, at the very least. But perhaps she was not used to this _particular_ method of expressing concern. “You are my teammate,” he said. “And my friend. It was the right thing to do.”

Cora made a sound that Clank could not interpret, and turned away. “I wish everyone took that as seriously as you.”

She stared up at the statue again, and this time, her anger was mixed with sadness. Clank revised his plans. It seemed that he now had two objectives: to allow Cora a (legally) acceptable outlet for her anger, and to remind her that her friends were concerned for her.

Luckily, both could be achieved at once.

Clank went back inside the Hall of Heroes.

* * *

 

It was a tight spot, but Brax Lectrus had been in plenty of those before. He crouched behind a piece of cover that was getting smaller by the minute, bits of metal spiralling off as his enemies blasted their way through it, and waited. They had to reload sometime. Of course, if they were smart, they’d stagger their shooting so that they didn’t all run dry at the same time…

The guns all went silent.

…but people were rarely that smart.

With a roar, Brax leaped out from behind cover, his weapon swinging into position. There were five robots in front of him—hadn’t there only been three when he ducked behind cover?—lean and mean and shoving fresh ammunition into their blasters. But Brax was already in position, his finger on the trigger.

He grinned. _Too slow._ He squeezed the trigger.

 _Click_.

Brax glanced down at his weapon in horror, then up at the robots. They’d finished reloading, and all five barrels were trained on him.

“Aw, sh—”

The word was cut off in a fresh hail of blaster fire. Brax threw himself backwards. He could feel the shots grazing his armour, but they hadn’t hit anything major yet. He still had a chance. He just had to give Cora a chance to come up from behind them, and—

Except that Cora wasn’t here.

_Crap!_

Brax tried to get out of the way, but he knew it was already too late. He’d been moving defensively, trying to buy time, when he should have been trying to bull his way through. And he could see more robots out of the corner of his eye, advancing on him with their blasters at the ready. And if they were on that side, then that meant—

He tried to twist, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Brax felt the bolt strike home between his shoulder blades. He hit the ground with a _thud._

“Simulation terminated,” announced the computer, and there was a faint chorus of whirring at various mechanisms powered down.

Brax groaned and let his head rest on the floor of the practice range. It was a work of art, really—perfect for training the people who took on the meanest, nastiest, toughest villains that the galaxy saw. Waves of enemies, multiple levels with variable terrain, randomised spawning points, all built out of the finest materials that bolts could buy. It was meant to _challenge._

He usually did better than this.

He pushed himself off the floor with a grunt, and took a look around the room. The place was scattered with scrap, but the intact robots—the ones who had been shooting at him thirty seconds ago—were already dragging away their dismembered comrades. Give it maybe five minutes, and the place would look like new.

The rage boiled up so quickly that Brax didn’t have the chance to think. One second he was still holding his gun, the second he’d thrown it as hard as he could. It struck the back of a robot’s head with a ringing _clang._

The robot keeled over and hit the floor with a crash. It didn’t make Brax feel any better.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were _Galactic Rangers,_ they were supposed to _stop_ things like this: beat the villain, save the day, rescue the innocent. That was their _thing._ But they hadn’t, and now an entire planet was gone.

Six planets if you wanted to get technical. But Novalis had been the only inhabited one—and it had been Cora’s home.

That wasn’t something you could fix.

The robots had carted their fallen comrade away, but they’d left the gun. Brax scooped it up as he lumbered towards the door. He’d dented the barrel. Elaris was probably going to strangle him, but right now Brax didn’t care. She had her ways of dealing with anger, and he had his. So what if his involved fewer obsessively organised files, and a lot more property damage?

He just wished that he knew what Cora’s was. Short of finding the Deplanetizer and blowing it to a trillion pieces, or finding their former Captain and dragging him back to Aleero City for Cora to tear apart, Brax couldn’t think of anything that would help his teammate. And he’d tried.

“Ahem.”

Brax checked himself in midair and nearly toppled over.

“Hey, Clank,” he said, once he’d managed to get his balance back. Having a teammate under three feet tall was a serious problem. “You and Elaris manage to break into the files yet?” God, Brax hoped so.

“Unfortunately, no,” said the little robot. “The program is still running.”

Brax felt himself slump a little. Well, damn. “Okay, then. Can I, uh, help you with something?” He didn’t know much about Clank, really. The little guy had always run around with Ratchet… But he was a nerd like Elaris, wasn’t he? “I’m not really much good with computers, or whatever…”

“That is immaterial,” said Clank. “I think I have a way to help Miss Veralux. But it requires…brute force. Which I believe is your specialty.”

It took Brax a moment to digest this. When he did, he grinned and shoved his useless gun into its holster. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

* * *

 

Elaris rubbed her eyes. They stung, which was a sure sign that she’d been at this too long. But she didn’t feel that she could just _sit_ there, waiting for the decryption programs to finally crack Nefarious’s files, so she’d been pulling apart the sensor data from the Phoenix. The ship had been too far away from the Deplanetizer to pick up the details, but the battle station was so big and so powerful that even a long-range view had some clues.

She just couldn’t make those clues into anything that might _beat_ the damn thing. What could you do against something that had enough raw power to blast an entire planet into rubble?

Elaris had honestly thought, as she tried to call Qwark back from what she assumed was a poorly disguised and even more poorly thought-out assassination attempt, that the Galactic Fleet could beat the Deplanetizer. After all, why would Drek have tried so hard to cripple galactic defence forces unless they were a serious threat to his plans?

Looking at the readouts in front of her, Elaris wasn’t sure any more. The blast that had destroyed Novalis had exceeded the destructive capabilities of even the most advanced weapons she knew of. A frontal assault wasn’t an option. That meant an infiltration, and they didn’t have nearly enough information for that. Every line of possibility led Elaris to another dead end.

But it was better than thinking about Cora. Elaris liked to stick to problems that she could actually solve.

…except that she’d just thought about Cora again, after promising herself that she’d stick to thinking about how to stop the Deplanetizer. _Damn it._

It was always the same. Tell yourself _not_ to think about tiny pink Zoni and that was all you _could_ think about. Elaris may have liked to stick to problems that she _could_ solve, but the unsolvable had always just…niggled at her.

 _You can’t do anything,_ Elaris reminded herself, randomly highlighting one part of the image in front of her. _You already tried, and you made it worse._ She zoomed in on her highlight, trying to ignore the way that her last conversation with Cora was replaying in her head.

_“You know, you don’t have to be here, Cora. You could go to the range. Or spar with Brax.”_

Those had been reasonable suggestions, right? It couldn’t have been easy to sit there, watching the footage of your planet being blown to pieces, over and over again from every angle that their ships had caught. It had to be done, but that didn’t mean Cora had to _watch._

_“No. I’m staying here until you figure out where Drek’s going next.”_

_“It could be a while, that’s all. Even with Clank’s help, it’s slow going.”_

_“I can wait.”_

_“I know. But…”_

Cora’s fingers had been tapping on the table, her only real movement, but there had been dark circles around her eyes, and even now Elaris wasn’t sure when her teammate had last slept. So surely it hadn’t been too surprisingly that she’d suggested Cora get some rest, right?

_“…maybe you could get some sleep in the meantime? So you’re ready when...”_

_“Do_ not _patronise me, Elaris.”_

_“I’m not patronising. I’m just saying that this isn’t the most productive use of your time.”_

That was where things had started to go wrong. Elaris probably shouldn’t have said that, but the tapping of Cora’s fingers was making it hard for her to concentrate. In front of her, the image of Novalis was breaking into pieces again, and there had been _something_ in the image that itched at Elaris. Something that she could use—she knew it subconsciously, even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet. And so her mouth had engaged without consulting her brain.

 _“And…you’re kind of making it hard to concentrate, so it’s not the most productive use of_ my _time, either.”_

Elaris winced at the memory. She _definitely_ should not have said that. And the way that Cora had looked at her… Well, if Elaris could ever figure out how to weaponize that look, the Galactic Rangers would have something to rival the RYNO in sheer destructive power.

 _“Wow. I’m sorry that you can’t focus on finding the guy who’s_ blown up six planets _because I’m here. Guess I’ll just go find some more_ productive _way to kill time.”_

Elaris had half-risen from her chair as Cora stalked from the room, but her brain had finally remembered that it had a job to do. A moment’s thought and she sank, defeated, back into her chair. Cora would be in no mood for apologies…and at least now, Elaris might be able to figure out that connection. Something that might let her figure out how to defeat the Deplanetizer.

A couple of hours later, and she still hadn’t found it. But she couldn’t leave until she did.

Idly, Elaris slowly scrolled through the zoomed-in image. It was a snapshot of the ship battle before the Deplanetizer had fired. She could see the Blargian ships criss-crossing the area around the station, and the three Rangers struggling to get through their numbers. On the edge of the battlefield, closest to the Planet, she could see one saucer flying off at an angle to its squad mates.

…Wait.

Elaris checked the readings, and felt her brow furrow.

If this information was correct, that saucer wasn’t _flying_ off, it was being _pulled_ off by Novalis’s gravitational pull. But the Deplanetizer was a couple of kilometres further out. Elaris had assumed that the station was within Novalis’s orbit. How else could it have stayed on target? 

She surged out of her seat.

That was it. The Deplanetizer didn’t enter a planet’s orbit, or the heat from re-entry would trigger the weapon at random, not to mention that the beam would move too fast to penetrate the planet’s core and set off the chain reaction that would break the world into pieces.  So how did it stay on target?

A gravity stabiliser. An immensely powerful one, to create an artificial pull that would hold the weapon in place long enough to fire.

Elaris collapsed back into her chair. If they could find a way to deactivate the stabiliser, they could stop the Deplanetizer from hitting its target. She just had to figure out how that could be done.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Elaris? You in there?”

 Elaris blinked and tore her eyes away from the image. Brax? “Yes?”

The door slid open, and Elaris raised her eyebrows. Brax was splattered with green paint, and looking slightly sheepish. Beside him was Clank, clean of paint but looking just as sheepish. What in the universe had they been up to?

“We kinda need your help,” said Brax.

“With what?” asked Elaris, unable to prevent some of her suspicion from leaking into her voice. In the past, Brax ‘requesting help’ had involved a fair amount of property damage and some stern messages from the Galactic President.

“Some modifications to the practice range,” said Clank.

Elaris blinked down at him. “Now?” She turned back to Brax. “Did you break the range again?” She wouldn’t be surprised. Brax’s way of dealing with his emotions was blow up, beat up, or shoot something. Contractors got steady work out of repairing the Galactic Ranger practice range.

He stiffened, looking a bit offended. “I did _not._ ”

“We are working on something to help Miss Veralux,” said Clank. “But we need your help.”

“Yeah, especially since this one—” Brax nudged Clank with one foot. True, it was gentle by Brax’s usual standards, but Clank still rocked with the force of it. “—lied about it needing _brute force._ ”

“I did not,” said Clank, sounding offended. “I could not have moved those robots by myself.”

“Okay, fair, but you didn’t say anything about _painting_ them once they were moved _._ I don’t paint.”

“Then what would you call what you were doing?”

Elaris ignored the bickering. She glanced back at the image of the ship battle, still frozen in front of her chair, then to the decryption program running in the corner. Still no results, and there wasn’t much more that she could do with the sensor data.

And maybe this would be a way for her to apologise to Cora.

“Okay,” she said, turning back to Brax and Clank. They broke off their argument. “What do I need to do?”

* * *

 

Aleero City was the same as ever, and it was really ticking Cora Veralux off.

Six planets destroyed, Blarg attacks all over the galaxy, Captain Qwark selling them all out, and there were still the same ads running on the holoboards, the same screeching from rush hour traffic, and the same pigheaded refusal to actually _do_ anything.

Cora would have _liked_ the entire Galactic Fleet and all planetary authorities to be putting manpower into an assault on the Deplanetizer. That would have been nice—not to mention justified. But blah blah blah need a proper battle plan blah blah blah defences too strong blah blah blah need to figure out where the Deplanetizer actually is blah blah _blah._

That last one was the only reason that Cora wasn’t currently in the Hall of Heroes. Elaris had made it pretty clear that glaring at the computer wasn’t going to make the decryption programs run any faster. Cora _would_ have stuck around so that she’d learn any new information as soon as it appeared, but apparently Cora’s being angry about what happened to her planet was _distracting._

So here she was, staring up at more proof of just how much Aleero City liked to drag its feet.

The golden grin on Qwark’s statue made her want to shoot something even more than she already had.

Cora was aware that spending hours staring at a statue of your traitorous former Captain probably didn’t count as healthy behaviour. Clank was probably trying to imply as much when he checked on her a couple of hours ago, though he’d been polite enough not to say it out loud. But her quarters felt like a cell, Elaris wouldn’t do anything until they had more information, and the practice range just wasn’t _satisfying_ right now. Cora didn’t want to shoot anonymous robots. She wanted to shoot Qwark. And Drek.

And if any Blarg henchmen wanted to get in her way, well, that was fine with her too.

But it was just her luck that after weeks of skirmishes with the Blarg across the galaxy, they’d all disappear and not leave her with anyone to fight. So here she was, glaring up at Qwark’s statue. She’d made a hundred plans about what she was going to say to her ex-Captain when she saw him again, and about a hundred more where she didn’t say anything, just got right down to the business of paying him back for what he’d done. She’d keep going. She’d make a plan for every citizen of her planet that had been left without a home, and for every place that Cora would never see again.

Her eyes burned, probably because she’d been staring at this stupid thing for too long. Had Qwark wanted to _blind_ everyone who looked at this monstrosity?

“Miss Veralux?”

Cora blinked rapidly, then scrubbed a hand across her face before she turned around. She didn’t want Clank to think she was crying, because she definitely wasn’t. Just a bit of eyestrain.

“Hey, Clank,” she said. “Have we got the files yet?”

“No, although Elaris has made a breakthrough in how we may defeat the Deplanetizer. It is only a matter of time, now.” The little guy sounded pretty certain for someone who was only a few weeks old.

Well, his news was good, anyway. Cora didn’t want to waste any time once they found out where the Deplanetizer had gone. “Great.” There was a brief pause before she added, “You here to check up on me again?”

“Actually, I want to show you something.” Clank took another step towards her. “I believe that it may help you.”

Knowing Clank, it was probably a bunch of articles from some kind of holonet self-help site, with titles like, ‘Beating your grief in three easy steps!’ or ‘Get over your crushing loss—today!’ Nothing that Cora wanted to see. “I appreciate you trying, Clank, but I really don’t—”

“Please. Brax and Elaris helped. It is a…sort of gift, from the three of us.”

Cora blinked. That was…kind of weird. Something that Brax and Elaris had helped him do? Brax barely sat still long enough to do mission briefings and didn’t really listen to Elaris for more than thirty seconds at a time. The idea of them working together didn’t make sense.

Clank was looking at her—well, the only word that Cora could think of was ‘beseechingly’, and she hadn’t used that word since her high school literature subject.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Show me.”

* * *

 

She started getting suspicious when they turned down the same hall as the practice range.

“I did tell you that Qwark’s dummies were practically indestructible, right?” she said, slowing a little.

“You did,” confirmed Clank.

“Then what did you do?” She tried to think of something else that Clank could have gotten out of their earlier conversation, but came up blank.

“You will see,” promised Clank.

Cora sighed. It sounded irritated, but she couldn’t help it and Clank didn’t seem to notice. Maybe Brax or Elaris would be more informative. Cora hoped so. She really wasn’t in the mood for this.

Her teammates were up ahead, just outside the doors of the practice range. Cora frowned as she and Clank came within earshot. Brax’s uniform was splotched with green paint, and Elaris was coiling up a long cable. 

“We done?” Brax was asking.

“We’re done,” said Elaris. “All ready to go.”

“Just in time.” Brax raised a hand. “Hey, Cora.”

“Hey,” said Cora. She couldn’t help her voice going a little bit flat. “Clank said there was something you wanted to show me.”

“Sure do. Just step through these doors and you’ll see all the results of our handiwork.” With an attempt at his usual swagger, he grinned at her. “If I do say so myself, it’s pretty impressive.”

Cora stared him down. Even now, it was so easy to fall into their usual rhythm.  It felt wrong, that she was able to do that right now. But all she said was, “Usually, when you’re telling someone how impressive you are, you’re not covered in paint.”

“Parts of the handiwork were messy. But they got done.”

Cora shook her head and turned to Elaris, who seemed much more likely to give a straight answer. “What is this? Clank wouldn’t tell me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” said the little robot.

“I’m not really big on surprises right now,” said Cora. “The last couple were…kind of unpleasant.” _Our Captain is a traitorous asshole. Drek has a weapon capable of destroying a planet. The planet he wants next is my home._ Yeah, Cora wasn’t feeling very enthusiastic about surprises.

“I think you’ll like this one,” said Elaris, with a hesitant smile. “But even if we didn’t want it to be a surprise…it really is easier to show you.” She touched the door control.

Resigned, Cora stepped into the practice range—and stopped short.

The robots ranged in front of her were still recognisable as the practice range drones, but they’d been…modified. Or maybe _made over_ was the better term. Green paint had been haphazardly splashed over them, which explained the stains on Brax’s uniform. The Q symbols on their chests were much neater than the rest of the paint job, and if Cora had to, she’d bet that Elaris or Clank had painted those. But the biggest change was to the heads. Since it wouldn’t have been possible to replace those on short notice, someone had gone out and bought a stack of really bad plastic masks of Qwark’s face, and then secured them on with duct tape. More green paint had gone over the top.

She heard Brax come up behind her.

“So, what do you think?”

“They’re the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” said Cora flatly.

“We couldn’t get them to look _really_ accurate,” said Brax. “Not and do enough of them, anyway. But Elaris did something clever with their voice processors. Check it out.” He drew his blaster and shot the Bad Qwark Dummy on the end of the line. It toppled over…and spoke.

“You shot me! How dare you shoot the mighty Captain Qwark! Oh, I am _so_ reporting you to the President.”

It was Qwark’s voice, unmistakable, and Cora almost choked on something that felt like a laugh. She half-turned to Elaris. “How did you—”

“Vocal simulator,” said their tech support, proudly. “You didn’t think Qwark actually sat down and recorded the lines for his dummies? I had to write a program for them. I can’t get it to sound like anyone but him, which kind of limits its use, but it was perfect for this.” She smiled. “We had a lot of fun coming up with the lines.”

As though to demonstrate, Brax shot another robot, which burst out, “No fair! Only I get to use a real gun! I’m useless in a real fight!”

“They’ll say something every time that they’re hit, unless you damage the vocal processor,” said Elaris. “So avoid the neck. Everything else is fair game, though.”

“And there are a few with…special targets,” added Clank…and giggled.

“Special targets,” repeated Cora, not quite a question.

“Yes, Clank said that you had certain…plans of attack for when you saw Qwark next,” said Elaris. Her mild tone didn’t disguise the way her eyes gleamed with amusement. “We thought we’d give you a little practice.”

“It’s harsh,” said Brax with a nod. “But fair.” He clapped Cora on the shoulder. “Want to give it a go?”

Cora stared at the robots. “You guys did all this?” She should probably be outraged that they’d been spending their time on _this_ while the Deplanetizer was still out there…except that Clank had already mentioned that they were still waiting on the decryption. They weren’t using time that they could have been tracking Drek.

She just couldn’t figure out why they’d spent it on something for _her._ Didn’t they have other things to do?

“Cora.” Elaris’s voice was gentle, which usually would have pissed Cora off. For some reason, this time it didn’t. “We’re your friends as well as your teammates.”

“We’ve got your back,” added Brax. “We know this doesn’t _fix_ anything…” He trailed off.

Clank took up the sentence. “But we thought that we might at least do something that might make you feel better. Until we can take proper action against those responsible for what happened.”

It took Cora a minute to digest that, especially around the lump in her throat. All she could manage was, “Thanks, guys.” It didn’t seem like enough, given what they’d done, but…they knew, right?

Brax slapped her on the back so hard that she nearly toppled over. “What are friends for?”

“Well,” said Elaris, “I _don’t_ think they’re for knocking you over. I think we’ve got enemies that can do that for us.”

“Correction: we have enemies that can _try,_ ” said Brax. “Galactic Rangers might get knocked down, but they never _stay_ down. Right, Cora?”

Cora swallowed hard and straightened up. “Right.” She took a deep breath. “Since I can’t be the only one mad at our _former_ Captain…” She raised an eyebrow at Brax. “Want to help me with my target practice?”

Brax grinned and drew his blaster. “Gladly.”

Cora hesitated, then turned to their tech support. “Elaris?”

Elaris smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks. There’s a few things that I think I can set in motion while we’re still waiting on the files. Besides, I got _my_ revenge in writing those lines.” Her smile had become a wicked grin. “There were so many possibilities. I really had to limit myself.”

Cora returned the grin in kind. “I’m looking forward to hearing them.” She turned to the final person in the room. “What about you, Clank?”

“I appreciate your offer, Miss Veralux,” he said, “but there is one more friend that I need to help.”

 _Ratchet._ The kid had run off after they recovered his ship, absolutely riddled with guilt over the whole thing. Cora wouldn’t have bet five bolts on him returning after that. “You think you can get him to come back?” she asked.

“I can try,” said Clank. “Besides, you said it yourself. Galactic Rangers don’t stay down.”

Brax chuckled. “Time to see what he’s made of, then. Good luck, Clank.”

“Thank you.” Clank nodded to them all. “I wish you all luck, and I will see you later.”

It didn’t seem right to just let him go like that. “Hey, Clank!”

The little robot stopped, half-turning back to her. “Yes, Miss Veralux?”

“Since we’re friends…you can just call me Cora.”

Clank’s eyes dimmed for a moment, the robotic equivalent of an organic blink. To Cora, it seemed like a long moment. At last, slowly, he said, “I see. Thank you…Cora.”

“Be sure to bring Ratchet back,” said Cora, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. “We could use the help.”

Clank’s face didn’t move a lot, but she thought that he was smiling. “I will do my best.”

“I’ll walk you to your ship,” said Elaris. “I could use your thoughts on some modifications I need to make to our ships…”

The door hissed shut behind them. Cora looked over at Brax.

“Ready to get started?” he asked.

Something that felt a lot like a smile started on Cora’s face. “Try to keep up,” she said, drawing her blaster. “Computer, _begin simulation_.”

 


End file.
